Second Chances
by PhsycoticPlatypus
Summary: Directly after Dumbledore's death,Harry is cast unexpectedly twenty-five years into the past,where he meets a young Severus Snape.Harry is forced attend Hogwarts as a first year for a second time,and struggles to find his new purpose.FULL SUMMARY INSIDE!


_Summary: Directly after Dumbledore plummets from the Astronomy Tower, Harry finds himself twenty-five years in the past and meets the eleven-year-old Severus Snape. Now, he is being forced to become a Hogwarts first year student for a second time. As Harry struggles to find out why he was sent into the past, and by whom, he becomes attached not only to the young Severus, but also to his new friends, and teachers. But there is something Harry must do, things to learn about his past, and his future. When the time comes, Harry will have to choose between his own time, with all the dangers that come with it, or the past, where he feels most at home. _

Erm, yes, well, I told you that I would be posting a story in the near future, and here is the first chapter. In the beginning, there is no romance, but as the story progresses, there WILL BE SOME SNARRY GOODNESS. If you are opposed to such things, then I urge you not to flame, but simply to back away slowly and not read. Anyway, as the chapters are longer than my normal chapter size, updates will be placed farther apart. I hope it's satisfactory! Comments reviews, and feedback are much appreciated. MUCH, MUCH APPRECAITED, if you get my drift.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its respective characters, places, you get my point. EVERYTHING belongs to J. K. Rowling, bless her.

_Second Chances_

Chapter 1:

Harry was bent, unable to move, watching the scene with Malfoy and Dumbledore unfold with an increasing sense of dread. Struggling to free himself of the immobility spell Dumbledore had set on him, and to no avail, he could do nothing as Bellatrix, Fenrir Greyback, Amycus, and Alecto stepped forward and began their jeering taunts at Dumbledore's expense.

"Do it now, Draco!" Ordered Bellatrix Lestrange, her black eyes glinting eagerly. She took a step forward and laid a hand on Malfoy's shoulder, in what was obviously meant to be a comforting gesture. "Before it's too late! Kill him!" Her voice became more urgent and she unconsciously looked behind her to see if anyone unwelcome was approaching. Malfoy, who had his wand raised, shut his eyes for a moment, his eyebrows deeply furrowed and sweat beading on his upper lip. His hand shook noticeably-the other Death Eaters were becoming impatient. Fenrir Greyback stepped forward, about to push Malfoy aside.

"Unworthy scum! You do not deserve the great honor the Dark Lord has bestowed upon you!" He snarled, his great, yellowed fangs bared. "Move aside and let me do it!" He again tried to push Malfoy roughly away, but was interrupted by soft footfalls behind him. Malfoy, Fenrir, and their fellow Death Eaters whipped around, and Harry's eyes narrowed. Severus Snape stood very still, coal black eyes taking in the scene before him and narrowing slightly. Harry could see his jaw become taut and vein begin pulsing on his temple.

"There's a problem, Snape!" Wheedled Bellatrix. "Draco doesn't seem able to do it-."

"Severus…" A frightening mixture of horror and disbelief welled within Harry's frozen chest. Dumbledore, who had slid against the hard brick wall into a loose fetal position, had uttered Snape's name in a strangled whisper, barely audible over Malfoy's labored breathing and Greyback's furious growls. "Severus, please…" Dumbledore murmured pleadingly again, his ice blue eyes trained on Snape's face. Harry struggled even harder to move, to break free from the powerful spell that bound him, and failed once more.

Silence had befallen the tower, everyone's eyes were on Snape, who stood stock still, his right arm deep within the pocket of his robes. The lines of his face were severe, and he was staring at Dumbledore with an expression of loathing far beyond anything he had ever aimed at Harry. His once cold black eyes that normally held no emotion burned with an ethereal fire that chilled Harry to the bone. He knew what Snape was going to do; if only he could stop it…

Suddenly, Snape's hand shot from his robes and he aimed his long, shiny black wand at Dumbledore's heart.

"Avada Kadavra!" He cried, his voice echoing eerily around the damp walls of the tower. Harry let out a silent scream as Dumbledore rose into the air from the impact of the spell, seeming to hang there for a moment before plunging over the side of the tower. Harry did not even have the time to deliberate what had happened before the people in front of him, the tower, and the cold night around him disappeared.

Harry woke up suddenly, as though someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over him. He sat up abruptly, his head ringing and his mind afire as the memories flooded back into his head. A numb feeling spread over his body and he stood up very slowly, his eyes closed as tears began to well within them.

Someone made a startled noise from beside him, and he was distracted from his eyes snapped open, his body tensed, and his wand hand flew into his now filthy robes. He was staring at a small, thin boy who looked to be around the age of eleven with very pale, even ashen skin and dark, unkempt hair that fell around his shallow face in curtains. He was staring at Harry in open disbelief, his mouth parted in a small 'o' and his black eyes wide. It didn't take Harry more than a second to figure out who it was.

"_You!" _ He shouted, fury ringing in his voice. The boy recoiled immediately, his face paling even more, if that was possible, and he stumbled over his own feet and fell onto the ground with a thud. Harry took a step forward and raised his wand, pointing it at Snape. Suddenly, he stopped. Something horrible must have happened, for obviously, this wasn't the Snape he knew, and he was no longer standing on the astronomy tower, witnessing Dumbledore 's death.

It was very light outside, and warm as well, the cold night air and stars gone. The child Snape was still staring at him, looking very frightened, though with each passing moment, he seemed to come more and more to his senses, and his eyes now glinted with indignation. Harry, who still was exuding massive amounts of hatred directed at Snape, regardless of how old he was, felt his loathing overcome by bewilderment. Snape, after another moment of silence, rose to his feet and glared angrily at Harry, who glowered back.

"Who are you, and how did you get here?' He questioned in a whisper, glancing over the bush he had been stooping behind anxiously before turning his eyes back to Harry.

Harry ignored him and peered over the bush to see what Snape had been doing before he had, erm, dropped by.

Chatting animatedly to a small, dark haired girl, was a very small version of what Harry was sure was his mother. They sat on separate swings, Lily swinging slowly while the other swung her legs out and stopped her swing, looking sour. Suddenly, Lily cracked an excited grin and shouted.

"Look what I can do, Tuney!" She began to pump her swing higher and higher into the air, and when it reached its highest point yet, she flung herself off it with a shriek of joy. Little Petunia shrieked as well, but for a different reason.

However, instead of crashing to the ground and breaking what should have been many bones, Little Lily landed gracefully on the cement and turned to her sister, bowing low to the ground and laughing. Petunia jumped off her swing, her tiny hands balled into fists and her lips pursed in a very familiar manner.

"Lily, that isn't aloud! Mommy said so!" She reprimanded her younger sister angrily. Lily looked slightly abashed, but said:

"But I'm fine, aren't I?I It's harmless! See? Look here!" She turned around and yanked a pretty violet flower off a nearby push, pressed it into her palm, and then began to make the petals open and close rapidly. Petunia glared at it with a mixture of awe and fright.

"Stop it! Stop it!" She screamed, taking a step back, as if the flower would suddenly sprout fangs and bite her. Lily's face crumpled with disappointment, but she complied, throwing the poor, abused flower back into the bushes. There was a pause, as the sisters stared at each other, and Harry thought he saw a flicker of jealousy in Petunia's eyes. "…How do you do it?" She whispered suddenly, with poorly disguised yearning in her voice. Lily opened her mouth to answer, but the young Snape suddenly stepped from the bush, giving Harry a start-he had forgotten all about him.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" He inquired eagerly, completely ignoring Petunia (who had let out a shrill yell and fled the scene) and Harry. Lily's emerald eyes narrowed, both with suspicion and curiosity.

"What do you mean, 'obvious?'" She asked. Snape's thin lips pulled upward and he took another step closer.

"I mean: you're a witch." Lily looked indignant at his words, and Snape seemed to realize that he phrased it incorrectly.

"Well that's not very nice!" She said, about to turn on her heel and stalk away. Snape held her back, looking flushed and sheepish.

"No, you don't understand! I mean you _are _a witch! I'm a wizard, you see." He nodded importantly. Lily looked incredibly disbelieving. Snape plowed on.

"You can make things happen that normal people can't; I saw you with the flower, and the swing! You're a witch!" Petunia, who had slowly crept back toward the other two children, chose that moment to but in.

"You've been spying on us, haven't you! I know who you are, you live by Spinner's End; you're that Snape boy!" Snape now turned his attention to her, his eyes narrowed and his lip curling in that unpleasant way he still had as an adult.

"I haven't been spying." He protested. "Especially not on you- you're just a muggle!" Though Harry was sure Petunia didn't have any idea what that meant, she still looked affronted. Taking her sister's hand, she began to pull her away.

"Come on, Lily." She commanded. Lilly followed her, looking indignant, but also torn between staying and hearing what Snape had to stay. As the two sisters disappeared into the hedge on the far corner of the park, Harry felt it safe to step out.

Snape still stood, rooted in place, staring at the place Lily has disappeared. As Harry approached him, he saw the disappointment and flushed confusion on his face. After a moment, he turned back to Harry as he heard his footsteps approaching.

"Who are you, anyway?" He resumed his questioning, though his voice was not as sharp anymore, but resigned. Harry had to think fast, to think of a name no one would recognize in the Wizarding World…. "My name's Colin." He blurted. "Colin Creevey." Snape bought it without another question; why shouldn't he have? "How did you get here? Why did you scream 'You!' when you saw me?" He began firing of rapid questions, frowning.

"I…." Harry struggled to think of something convincing to say. Who knows how long he would be stuck here, in this weird memory, or whatever? Until he knew the circumstances, he needed a place to go… "I'm lost." He finally answered lamely, at a loss for anything better. Snape, though, seemed to think that was adequate. Forgetting about Harry's loud exclamation when he had first seen him, he looked around curiously, as if Harry's parents might come rushing from behind a tree, searching for him.

"Where do you live?" Snape inquired, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that he was just glad someone was talking to him in a nice manner. To Harry, this young Snape looked not only neglected, but a little lonely, too. His hair was unwashed and stringy, his clothes were much too big and hung off him in a limp manner. He was skinny and looked underfed and malnourished. Though Harry hated to admit it, the young Snape looked exactly like Harry before he had gone to Hogwarts, though at least Harry had looked like he bathed regularly.

Realizing that Snape was still waiting for an answer, Harry invented frantically.

"Er, I ran away from home. I've been wandering for days." He lied. Snape swept his eyes over him and nodded, as if the answer was satisfactory to him.

"Well, that would explain the state of your robes." He snorted, though Harry could not help but think that Snape had no right to talk. He held his tongue, and eyed Snape, who seemed to be thinking very hard about something. Finally, he nodded resolutely, and said: "You can come to my house-I'll let you borrow some of my clothes." Harry, having no other place to go, nodded hesitantly, and followed Snape as he swept off, his jacket, which looked like it belonged to a bulky man, bouncing behind him, looking quite ridiculous. As Harry jogged to keep up with him, (Snape was strangely quick for such a scrawny boy) he realized Snape was staring at him curiously.

"So, have you gotten your Hogwarts letter yet?" He queried interestedly, seeming quite fascinated with the entire subject of magic and Hogwarts. "You look to be about the right age."

As that sunk in, Harry quickly rummaged through his pockets, his hands groping for the mirror Serious gave him in his fifth year-Harry always carried it with him. Snape was still chatting away, looking happy that he finally had someone to talk to. Harry absently wondered what Snape's home like was like-he had seemed strangely hesitant to bring Harry to his house. He wasn't really listening as Snape plowed on with his speech. "I mean, you probably have, since you've already bought a wand; I saw it when you had it out earlier. It looks sort of used though, is it a hand-me-down…?" He continued to ramble on, Harry didn't answer, for he finally had found the mirror. Yanking it out, he brought it close to his face.

Instead of the sixteen year old Harry, the eleven year old version of himself stared back at him. With wider, more innocent looking eyes, a rounder face, and fuller lips, the eleven year old Harry looked exactly as he remembered from five years ago.

"What the…?" He muttered under his breath, his eyebrows furrowing. What was going on? Why had he been transported twenty-five years into the past right after Dumbledore had died? He glanced at the young Snape, still chatting away as only a young, excited boy could. This young, budding wizard, twenty-six years from now, would be the one to kill the most celebrated and powerful wizard of all time. This scrawny, neglected-looking boy, twenty years from now, would look Harry in the eye and give him the first searing pain in his scar. This innocent, harmless little boy would grow up to be Harry's most hated teacher.

Still, as Harry look upon Snape, walking beside him, ready to give Harry his clothes and help him with his fake problem, Harry couldn't bring himself to hate him, no matter what he would do in the future. But, as he walked toward Spinner's End, a small, malevolent voice in his head whispered: _"He can't be trusted…He killed Dumbledore…He can't be trusted…."_


End file.
